Fearlessly Frosted
by HannahJaneLee
Summary: It's been two years since Jack became a Guardian, and Pitch's shadows are growing stronger. The winter solstice approaches, the darkest day of the year. And to make matters worse, Pitch has a winter spirit in his sights. The Guardians know they need help, but who will answer the call? Can Jack and his new friends Katherine and Nightlight save childhood? Or will darkness prevail?


Prologe

~Moonlit Walk~

It was a beautiful, still night. The snow that had been falling for the past few hours had finally stopped, leaving behind a crisp, clear moonlit sky filled with thousands upon thousands of stars. The Man in the Moon's smiling face shone down like it was made of crystal ice. The snow upon the ground practically glowed in the moonlight. It had stuck to the branch of every tree, making the world look as if it was covered in marshmallow frosting. The world was silently sleeping, and all was still and peaceful.

It was a sight to behold, but only one pair of eyes would behold it tonight. And that would just so happen to be the creator of this masterpiece; Jack Frost.

Currently the boy was perched in a large tree, admiring his handiwork. He leaned on his staff and let out a low whistle. He had really outdone himself this time!

His snow white hair and rumpled up cloak came alive as a fresh, brisk breeze came across the scene. He closed his ocean blue eyes as the cool air washed over his pale face and nipped his nose. He was a handsome boy, and looked about 18 years old. His body was mostly made up of long legs covered with capris pants that where very old and distressed, tied at the ends by rough leather. He always carried his staff. It was about as tall as he was, with about a half circle at the top. Just by looking at him you could tell he was a mischievous sprite who had a knack of stirring up trouble.

Then the winter nymph jumped nimbly down from his icy perch, his bare feet crunching the snow beneath him. Then he continued on his journey.

Usually Jack just traveled wherever he pleased, wherever the wind would take him. But, unconventionally, tonight he was on a journey to a certain place.

He had traveled this way so many times that his feet had worn a path in the foliage and tree branches. He dragged his staff along the familiar ground and brushed the nearby trees with his hands. Where his fingers met the tree's bark beautiful works of art where formed of frost. Spirals and flowers and fernlike designs quickly spread around the trees. Jack didn't even notice this transformation though; he was too lost in thought; his eyes frozen, facing forward.

He had made it to his destination.

He paused for a moment, taking in the scene. The trees stopped just feet in front of him, beyond sat a large glassy lake surrounded by a ring of snow. It was a rather small lake, easily frozen over by the winter cold. Around it sat evergreens and empty branched trees, looking over the lake like tall, silent guardians.

Jack smiled at the familiar sight. Since he had become Jack Frost he had never really had a place to call home. He was constantly migrating along with the seasons, ushering the cold down from the North and reigning it back year after year. But he was attached to this place in so much he considered it his home. This was where his journey began, this is where he was born of Frost.

He had only learned what had truly happened that fateful night a year ago, but he had come to accept what had happened. He had made a terrible mistake, and it cost his sister her life. But he payed the debt with his own. He had saved her from a frigid, watery grave, and the frozen cold that claimed his soul had stayed with him ever since.

Although he was very proud of saving his sister that night, it was still too painful to retell the tale to his friends. He just simply said, "I drowned saving my sister," When the Guardians asked. They didn't press for more information, and they didn't ask for it. Then he would act as if it wasn't a big deal. But to him it was- and every day he thought of her, meditating constantly on the memories he had of her. But you couldn't touch a memory. But this place, this place was a memory. And it was tangible.

One year ago all that he could remember was the cold that roused him from a death-like sleep. That was all he had ever known: Cold, darkness, loneliness. But he had chosen in this life to learn of the laughter of children, of stories and legends and the rush of childhood innocence. That was what he was, the embodiment of the fun of childhood; an Immortal with the soul of a child.

Jack came to find he wasn't just eternally young, but he had been given control over the winter elements as well. At the lake he practiced his newfound abilities, using the staff he found on the surface,

Later on he went to the warren of the tooth fairy, where he found his teeth and memories of his past life. That was a while ago though, but he hadn't visited the lake since he had found out about his history, and so he thought he would drop in.

He strode along the shoreline of the lake using his staff as a walking stick, leaving behind him a trail of bare foot prints and staff imprints.

Jack stopped leaned on his staff and stared at the lake, and then the sky. He closed his eyes for a moment and just breathed. This place always brought him peace.

He turned away from the lake and saw a very large, old oak tree in front of him. In the blink of an eye he had climbed up the twisted trunk like a squirrel. He pulled himself up to the nook in the tree where it splits from the trunk out into multiple branches. He had found this spot many years ago. He slept here for years, and he never had one nightmare. The wood was worn smooth, imprinted to his sleeping form.

Jack smiled to see it was still in the same condition he left it. He hadn't been here in a while, so he was afraid some animals could have made it their home. He propped his staff up against a branch and sat down. He ran his hands over the smoothed wood, feeling each crack, every mark he ever carved into it.

At the sight of his familiar sleeping niche he suddenly opened up his mouth as far as it could go, and let out a long yawn. He stretched his arms out and smiled. He sure had missed this place.

He sat down and curled up into a tight ball, the curves of his frame fitting into the curves of the tree like a puzzle piece, and let his fatigue wash over him. He closed his bright blue eyes and using his arms for a pillow and his cloak for a blanket, the winter sprite fell into a wonderfully peaceful, deep slumber.


End file.
